


The Wandering Prince

by mimeus



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimeus/pseuds/mimeus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prince with neither money nor land was not much of a prince indeed. So, when young Lord Rasler was offered a chance to all the gold he could ever dream of, he made a wager against the devil himself.</p><p>Based on the fairytale 'Don Giovanni de la Fortuna' </p><p>Notes and Warnings: Fairytale AU, Very minor background implied Gabranth/Basch (which means incest though :o), arranged marriages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wandering Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of writing the next chapter of Single Grain, I wrote this instead. At least it is still Rasler/Reks!! ^^;;; I just felt like writing a short, simple story with a happy ending for all (for most…).
> 
> I WILL fill the Reks/Rasler tag in AO3 and you should too!! :p 
> 
> Based on the fairytale Don Giovanni de la Fortuna (A more famous variation of this story is the German fairytale Bearskin)
> 
> Notes and Warnings: Fairytale AU …, background Gabranth/Basch (which means incest :o), arranged marriages, switching of family dynamics, others.
> 
> Pairings: Rasler/Reks, so very minor Gabranth/Basch

Rasler was born a prince of Nabradia, fourth in line for the throne. However, neither politics nor court intrigue interested him, and he was quite content to spend his days in the small northern province of Sicia, of which he was the grand duke. His family was happy to leave him be, for his father was still healthy and ruling and his three elder brothers sufficiently maintained the court gossip pool without him. So he spent his days riding through his lands, exploring all that Sicia had to offer.

 

Tragedy, as it is wont to do, struck when no one expected it.

 

In the summer of Rasler’s 20th year, a great storm flooded much of Nabradia, and a sea storm that resulted destroyed the Monstesere cathedral, one of the oldest temples in the country. Sicia was not quite as affected, due to its location far inland and the higher elevation of the province overall, and Rasler spent most of autumn sending aid to the devastated capital. Winter, as usually seen after a major disaster, brought famine as the lack of summer crops and autumn harvest took its toll.

 

And it was then, in winter, that tragedy befell Rasler. Fuelled by the destruction of the cathedral and using the people’s unhappiness at the famine, Duke Catharis claimed that the gods themselves were against house Nabradia and staged a successful coup that resulted in the death of Rasler’s family. He alone had been spared in the initial struggle due to his absence in court. When word of their deaths reached Sicia, Rasler had no time to grieve, sparing only a moment blink back his tears. Duke Catharis’ forces were making their way north and he had to make his escape.

 

But who to trust? Rasler had been gone from court for the last three years- he had no idea who was still loyal to his family and who was not. And he could not rely on his servants; he would not have them risk their own lives for his, and for all he knew, they too, could have been bought over by the Duke.   

 

With these thoughts in mind, Rasler fled his palace in the cover of night, telling no one of his plans. He dressed in the garbs of a page, taking a single bag of gil with him in his escape.

 

Unfortunately for Rasler, he was unprepared for the harshness of the world without titles to protect you. He had planned to remain hiding until the call for his head died down, but the Duke’s forces were ever vigilant in hunting for the missing prince, and Rasler could not stay at a single town for too long in fear of being recognized. Another thing he had not considered was how much it cost to simply survive. His gil scarcely lasted a week, after which he was forced to wander from place to place, begging for alms like a common pilgrim. When he had been living in Sicia, he could spend as much as he liked and the gil would simply replenish from the royal treasury.

 

Rasler could have become a swordhand, the only trade he could use while travelling, but that came with too much risk of recognition; soldiers of noble lineage always fought in a different style than those of common birth.  

 

It was a bitter existence. Rasler was forced to live like a beggar while the Duke ran his country to the ground. Catharis made laws and reforms that made life much more difficult for the common man despite his promises previously, and he squandered the Nabradian army in an attempt to find Rasler, rather than protecting the borders as they should have. Rasler made grand plans in his head on how to overthrow the Duke, on how to improve the lives of his people, now that he had lived amongst them, but nothing could come to fruition without prestige, without gil. It was indeed a bitter lesson for the young prince to learn.

 

One day, when Rasler had been allowed shelter at the stable of a large inn, he met a well dressed man who was not what he seemed. The man was a tall fellow, with long dark hair that shined with luster, and he wore clothes of obvious status, not unlike what Rasler himself wore back in Sicia. The only odd thing was that he had a large pendant in the shape of two serpents, coiled together and in the midst of eating one another.

 

“My good sir,” Rasler said. “A gil for a poor, hungry wretch?”

 

The stranger sat in the hay next to Rasler, unconcerned for his finery. “Well, I could give you a gil or two, but what good would that do you?” he asked. “Now, how would you like to become rich again, with all the money Ivalice has to offer available to you?”

 

“I’d think you mad,” Rasler replied. “Or the devil himself, to be able to offer me something such as this.”

 

The man chuckled, throwing his head back as he laughed. “How astute of you,” he said once his laughter died down. “Prince of Nabradia.”

 

“The devil,” the prince turned beggar said with a gasp. “I’d be a fool to make a deal with you.”

 

“No deals then,” the devil replied with a careless wave of his hand. “How about a wager instead? I am very fond of the gambling game.”

 

Rasler frowned, skeptical of the words. “The devil never makes a bet he doesn’t plan on winning.”

 

“Why don’t I tell you the conditions before you make your choice,” the dark haired man said with a raised brow. “After all, at least I offer you this fighting chance. What have the gods done to help you in this time of need?”

 

 The man pulled out from his pocket an empty silk purse, very plain, unassuming. “I will give you this purse,” he explained. “Whenever you are in need of gil, just say to it ‘Dear purse, give me some money’ and you will get as much as you can want. But, the charm will only work if you promise to remain three years, three months, three weeks and three days without washing, without combing, without shaving your beard and without changing your clothes. If you do this faithfully, when the time is up, you will keep the purse for yourself and I will let you off any other conditions.”

 

The wager seemed reasonably enough to Rasler, who, while capable of deep thought, usually preferred to jump into action without thinking very far ahead. There was one thing that was holding him from accepting the purse, however.

 

“I’m already a mess as it is,” Rasler argued. “Would it not be fairer if I started my three years with new clothes and after a bath? In three years, the rags I’m wearing now will be nothing but threads.”

 

The well dressed man took Rasler’s words with a hum before standing abruptly. “Come on then,” the man said. “We shall go to the inn, to get you a bath and some clothing for our wager. And, take care to address me as Vayne in front of the villagers.”

 

Rasler followed the devil, who called himself Vayne, into the inn where the innkeeper, though unhappy with having such a dirty man for a guest, accepted Vayne’s money and allowed Rasler access to the bathes. Once bathed, face clean shaven as he had been in Sicia, Rasler dressed in the simple but clean tunic and pants the innkeeper had brought up.

 

The Nabradian found Vayne in the room adjoining the bath, staring out at the night sky. He greeted Rasler like an old friend, before conducting them to sit at a table.

 

“You are clean, and dressed in new clothes,” Vayne said. “It cost me only 150 gil for it all. Now, young prince, I may leave now, giving you a onetime boon, or you may take the purse, be as wealthy as you desire. Wealthy enough to build yourself an army and restore the throne to its rightful king.”

 

Rasler thought that the price was worth the gil. After all, had he not gotten used to being dirty in these last months? The prince did not realize what a long time three years truly was.

 

“How many days does your term equal? Three years, three months, three weeks and three days?” Rasler asked. “I would hear the terms of this wager again.”

 

 Vayne huffed but in a manner that showed he cared not either way. “The purse will provide you with all the gil you can desire, simply say ‘Dear purse, give me some money’ and the purse will fill to your heart’s content. However, the charm only works if you promise to remain for three years, three months, three weeks and three days without washing, without combing, without shaving your beard and without changing your clothes. The time in terms of days equals 1212 days as of now, which will bring you to Saint Majora’s day in three years time. If you do this faithfully, when the time is up, you will keep the purse for yourself and I will let you off any other conditions. After those 1212 days, the purse will respond even if you cleanse yourself. You could truly become the wealthiest in the world.”

 

Twelve hundred days did not seem that long at all to Rasler so with a firm, resolute nod, he accepted the devil’s wager, taking the purse from his hand. Vayne smiled and without another word, jumped out the window and disappeared into the night.

 

The first thing Rasler did was think about where he should go; with so much money at his disposal, he could go anywhere he wished. Also, despite his great love for his country, Rasler understood that it was not the best place to be if one was to spend three years without bathing. Nabradia was famed throughout Ivalice as a vacation spot, with humid summers and mild winters, surrounded by rivers and streams and tropical forests to explore. Another thing Rasler had to consider was what would happen if the people were to learn of what he was attempting- they’d think him mad, thinking him no better than a beast who cares naught for his hygiene. Yes, Rasler would have to bid farewell to Nabradia for the next three years.

 

But where to go?

 

Ah… Landis would do. Far northeast of Nabradia, beyond the Galtean mountain ranges and Cerobi Steppe stood the peninsula nation of Landis. A harsh land in which winter dominated for five months of the year, and the summers were short and cool, difficult for most crops to grow. Landis managed to thrive despite these hardships due to their lumber export and their famous shipwrights; the people of Landis were known as the masters of the sea.

 

With that in mind, Rasler set off at once to Landis, his first purchase with his newfound wealth a heavyset black chocobo, bred for distance not speed.

 

As Rasler travelled up the mountain passage to Landis, he passed many towns and villages. He was free with his almsgiving, providing gil to the poor wherever he went.

 

“However should we thank you?” they would ask.

 

“My one request is that you pray for Nabradia,” Rasler would reply. “For a false king holds her prisoner. Pray for the return of Prince Rasler, the sole heir left of House Nabradia.”

 

He passed town to town in such a manner. So happy was he with his newfound wealth that he even forgot how dirty he was getting for a short time, but this did not last, for his hair grew matted with debris and hung over his eyes and dirt covered his skin in a thick layer.  

 

Rasler was in this state when he finally arrived to the countryside of Landis. Hoping to avoid the judging glares of the townsfolk, he and his chocobo were travelling at the edge of a nobleman’s lands, a vast manor standing in front of a large lake. It reminded Rasler of his family’s summer home and he was hit with such homesickness that he wandered deeper into the lands and sat by the lakeside without any thought, reminiscing of better times. A maid chanced upon him, and seeing his rags and filthy beard, she promptly ran to her master to warn him.

 

So the master of the manor came out and called from some distance away, for he was scared to get close to such a filthy man. “You filthy beggar! You will leave my lands at once.”

 

“Now now, there’s no need to be so rude,” Rasler replied, unable to keep the humour out of his voice. “I am not a beggar at all. And if I so wished, I could force you and your family to leave this house.”

 

“What is it that you can do?” the nobleman said with a sneer.

 

“Will you sell me this house and your lands as well?” asked Rasler. “I will buy it from you on the spot, any amount you desire.”

 

The man thought Rasler mad but accepted his offer as a joke. He named a price three times what the land and manor was worth and when Rasler accepted with nary a shrug, the two of them went to a lawyer to draw up the contract. It was agreed that the money would be paid in eight days time.

 

Then Rasler went to an inn where he hired two rooms, one right next to another. Standing in one of them, he said in a soft voice, “Dear purse, fill this room with gil.” And the purse obeyed, golden gil coins bursting forth from the silk pouch. By the end of the eight day, not another gil could fit in the room.

 

Rasler reclaimed the purse and met with the man and the lawyer. When all three had arrived at the room, the prince simply said, “Take as much as you’d like. I assure you that there is more here than the agreed upon price.”

 

The nobleman stared with open mouth at the sight and though he did not wish it, he had given his word to sell the house. So he called for his servants to come with wheelbarrows and took the agreed upon amount and a little extra, before gathering up his family and looking to another place to live.

 

“My good man,” the lawyer, who had accompanied the nobleman, said with awe. “Just who are you?”

 

Rasler thought about how he should reply. Despite Landis’ distance to Nabradia, it would be wise to keep his name secret still, at least until the wager as completed.

 

“Fortuna is my name,” he replied with a shrug. “And gil and gold seem to follow me wherever I go.”

 

Rasler left the inn soon after, dwelling the manor in excitement. But he was soon disappointed, for though the outside of the manor resembled his home in Nabradia, the inside was covered with heavy tapestry and paintings of winter scenes. And this sad place was to be his home for the next foreseeable future. How unacceptable. With that in mind, Rasler had servants take down the tapestries to bring in the light, and he called upon artisans from all over to decorate his home. Painters, sculptors, artisans of no name could be paid handsomely if Rasler liked the work they brought.

 

Servants found Rasler a good master to serve, albeit very odd. He allowed servants the luxury of warming their own rooms yet slept himself without heating, keeping his bedchambers almost frigid at times. He invited his staff to dine in the magnificent halls yet kept himself out of sight, preferring to spend his days in the gardens with his steed. He welcomed nobles and beggars alike with the same courtesy. His greatest oddity was of course, his lack of hygiene; he was sane in all other ways, save in his dislike for the bath.

 

Very soon, the fame of his riches reached even to the capital of Landis, where the king, His Majesty Noah Fon Ronsenburg heard the rumours of the wealthy maverick. Though not a frivolous spender, the king was in need of a great deal of money at the time so he dispatched one of his most loyal aides, a Bangaa named Migelo, to borrow the sum from Rasler.

 

Rasler welcomed the Bangaa and readily offered all that the King needed, but before he did so, he wished to know the reason for such a large sum.

 

“His Majesty Noah has begun plans to build a cathedral dedicated to the Patron Saint of Landis in Strideen, the place of his mother’s birth,” Migelo explained. “But he has not been able to raise the full amount needed for such a large project.”

 

Rasler glanced at the Bangaa. “I’ve heard that a Rozarrian dilettante had offered a sum to the king,” he said with interest. It seemed his years away from the court had made Rasler actually miss court gossip.

 

Migelo coughed, a small indication of his discomfort. “Ah, yes,” he admitted with nod. “However, Lord Azelas made a request impossible for King Noah to accept in return for the funds.”

 

Rasler accepted the Bangaa’s words and without further ado, sent the servant off with a wagon laden high with bags of gold.

 

The King, wise despite his relative youth, having come to the throne at 28, only took what he needed to build his chapel and ordered the rest to be returned to Rasler. Rasler in turn refused to receive it, stating that he was offended by the King’s proposal and the gold he returned was worth very little in the grand scheme of things.

 

Migelo returned to the court of King Noah and delivered Rasler’s news, the king wondered how a man could be so rich. After a time, he spoke with his brother, Grand Prince Basch- his twin, partner and confidant- of the odd man living in the countryside.

 

“This Fortuna has done me a great service and has also behaved like a gentleman in not allowing me to return the money,” Noah said. “Such a wealthy man could be a great asset to Landis. What are your thoughts on marrying him into our family, perhaps giving him one of our sisters’ hand?”

 

Prince Basch was a pragmatic man, offering the king sound and well thought advice. However, he was also much closer with their younger siblings, and feared for their happiness. “Dear brother,” Basch replied. “He would be a great ally indeed. However, I wonder if either of our sisters would accept so readily to marry a stranger, not of Landis at all. I’ve spoken to Migelo of this Fortuna- he said that the man was of Nabudis. Perhaps he is not inclined to women at all- many nobles in Nabradia marry of their same sex, using a handmaiden or a servesire to provide their heirs.”

 

“Then we should offer him our brothers as well,” Noah commented with a nod. All four of his younger siblings were marvels of beauty, Fortuna would find one that suited him.

 

“No, I meant we know nothing of him,” Basch replied, shaking his head. “Perhaps we should have a portrait done of him and see if anyone would take him. After all, there are those rumours about him.”

 

“He is wealthy beyond imagination,” Noah said with a scoff. “They cannot possibly be true.”

 

The King accepted his brother’s advice but did not wait to see if one would accept Fortuna, sending a young painter by the name of Kytes to make the portrait but advising Migelo to make the offer of marriage at the same time.

 

“Why should I do such a thing?” Rasler asked when Migelo arrived with a painter to request his portrait, taking care to seat himself downwind of the visitors. A full two years had passed since his wager began, and he was more beast than man at this point.

 

Now, Kytes was a man too honest for his own good, speaking before thinking things clearly. “Well my lord,” the excitable painter said with a smile. “The king wishes to welcome you to his family. He’s got no children, but he does have four siblings-each a miracle of beauty- that you can take your pick from. Two sisters and two brothers there are.”

 

Rasler’s face was hidden by his matted beard so his shock could not be seen by the others, but inside his heart beat rapidly. He was so lonely-no one came to see him for his company, only to get the gil that the purse offered him. Rasler longed for conversation, and a partner to share his sorrows and joys with. Man or woman, it did not matter to him, only that they have a good and gentle heart.

 

Migelo frowned, tutting at the young painter before smiling sheepishly at Rasler. “Though the artist is an oaf, he does speak true,” the Bangaa said, bowing. “If it is acceptable to Lord Fortuna, his most gracious majesty would like to offer you the eldest of his younger sibling, the Princess Ashelia’s hand.”

 

“The king is too good,” Rasler said, hiding his excitement in a calm tone. “I humbly accept his offer.”

 

Rasler sat for his portrait, which Kytes eventually changed to a charcoal sketch instead, and sent the picture off with the servants.

 

They returned within a month’s time, both Migelo and Kytes, and bowed low before Rasler.

 

“My lord,” Migelo stated, and by his tone Rasler knew the news was not good. “I regret to inform you that… after seeing your portrait, Lady Ashelia refused vehemently to marry you.”

 

Rasler was disappointed by unsurprised at the news. He knew how he looked.

 

“However,” Migelo added quickly, hoping to placate the wealthy lord. “If you are amenable to it, the third prince, Lord Reks of the Shetlyre Valleys, has offered his hand instead. To be honest with you, he would be a better match- he is much gentler and warm-hearted than our Lady Ashelia.”

 

“He… accepted to marry me, despite seeing my portrait?” Rasler asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

 

Migelo nodded. “Indeed, my lord.”

 

Kytes came forward and presented a small portrait of the third prince to Rasler. Staring fondly at the picture, he could see why Reks was considered a miracle of beauty. Pale and fair, he had a unique silver sheen to his hair and a thoughtful smile in his portrait. Rasler wished to know more about this prince, to know what had prompted him to accept Rasler’s proposal. But he knew that he would get little to no answers from Migelo, that crafty old Bangaa, so he turned his focus on Kytes. He had a servant accompany Migelo to a lawyer to arrange a brideprice while he had Kytes walk with him in the garden.

 

When Rasler was assured that no one would eavesdrop or interrupt the conversation, he turned to the young artist. “Kytes, I have a proposition for you,” Rasler said, pulling out several gils. “I wished to know what it was that was said when you presented my portrait to the royal family. And how Prince Reks came to accept me as a spouse. I will reward you handsomely for it.”

 

Kytes smiled good-naturedly, thinking that there was nothing particularly dangerous about the rich man knowing. So he took the gils, and sat on a stone bench in the garden to tell his story.

 

“Well… It began when I presented the portrait to the royal family. I guess there had been an imbalance in the amount of knowledge of this impending marriage because the first thing Princess Ashe said was ‘What in Ivalice is this?’ and when I told her that it was Lord Fortuna, Grand Prince Basch sighed and said ‘Well, I guess this means we will offer the man another means of compensation’. Now, the problem began when his Royal Highness King Noah said ‘We cannot. For I’ve already passed my royal word and I cannot break it.’”

 

“Ah, so they were unaware,” Rasler commented with a sigh. “The king rushed too soon into this bargain.”

 

Kytes nodded before jumping back into his story. “Anyways, when the king said that _everyone_ burst into argument. But Princess Ashe was the loudest. Now, I’m not sure how much you know… But the eldest princess is exceptionally dramatic. Half the time she says something and it sounds like it belongs in a mummer’s play. And she has _very_ strong opinions that must be heard, always. So she said ‘He’s a beast! I don’t even think he counts as a hume anymore!’ Oh wait…” he said, cutting himself off. “Am I being too mean right now? I’m just repeating what was said.”

 

Rasler shook his head, urging the other to continue. “Do not worry, I’ve heard worse.”

 

“Alright then. So, Princess Ashe said that, and then the King replied ‘It doesn’t have to be Ashe, though tradition does dictate it should be her. He just has to marry into the family. Penelo?’ Now the youngest princess, after hearing the King’s words, burst into tears in horror. At that point, her elder sister and brothers all jumped into her defense- Princess Ashe insisted that if anyone should marry the bear at this point, it should be the King or Grand Prince Basch, and Prince Vaan just mocking the portrait in general. Everyone was yelling; Grand Prince Basch was angry at the King for not taking his advice, the princesses livid at a possibility that they may have to marry you and Prince Vaan worried that if they don’t do it, he might have to. It was mess. The only one who hadn’t said a single word had been Prince Reks, and he was actually looking at the portrait for more than a single glance. Which I was happy about because I worked hard on making you presentable. He was actually studying it with this thoughtful look. After awhile, he came up to me and told me that I had drawn your eyes with great detail. _Then_ I had to explain that it was hard to see anything else on your face because of well… all the hair and the beard.”

 

Kytes smiled broadly, his dimples showing at the grin. “The third prince, he’s always trying to the find the best in people,” he added with wave of his hands. “So then, he asked about you. What you did, what the townspeople said, what your servants said, what I thought of you. Prince Reks got real quiet, and he does that very often, taking a long time to think upon a subject. Then he said ‘You’ve made his eyes very kind.’ To which, I replied ‘he is.’ Because, well, you were. You were to me. Then Prince Reks left the room for a while, I presume to think in peace, and then returned within the hour. He said, ‘I will marry Lord Fortuna,’ to which everyone save the king tried to dissuade him from.”

 

Kytes’ expression turned pensive as he stared at the garden. “He could have said a vast number of things to stop their complaints. He could have said that someone had to make sure the King’s oath wasn’t broken or anything related to duty, or he could even have said that he would marry you to stop their argument! But instead, Prince Reks said that your soul was gentle, and that you were a good man and it was an honour, for him to wed someone such as you.”

 

Rasler was struck dumb at the words, and he sat for a long while, even after dismissing Kytes, pondering the prince’s words. It was foolish of him, but just on the basis of that single story alone, he fell a bit in love with Reks.

 

The bride price was arranged, and the king’s servants left with a wagon piled high with gold. Soon Migelo returned yet again to the manor to ask when the wedding date should be so that the prince may prepare.

 

“In 14 months,” Rasler replied, for that would bring the wedding a month after Saint Majora’s day, allowing him a month to cleanse his body after all its hardships.  

 

Migelo made note of the date before passing Rasler an envelope, three lilies imprinted in the wax seal. “Prince Reks requested that it be delivered to you, for your lordship to know a bit of your future spouse.”

 

Once the Bangaa had left, Rasler opened the letter with shaking hands, unsure of what the contents would be. The letter was written on fine paper, thick and smooth, clearly the work of a master craftsman.

 

_Dear Lord Fortuna,_

_I hope this day finds you well. I was happy to hear that you found me an acceptable replacement for my sister. I had feared otherwise, as she is much fairer than I. I wish to get to know you a little better, before our wedding. You are a mystery in the court, you must realize._

_I know I am being awfully forward but perhaps we could exchange letters? Nothing so serious and stiff as formal exchanges but perhaps as friendly missives? You could write to me of your day, or your hobbies. Even an interesting encounter you had._

_I am not the sort to have exciting adventures I’m afraid, so I fear my letters will be filled with banal events. Here is one such example. Several days ago a trading caravan arrived from Rabanastre. They had these golden flowers, with a massive centre filled with teeny tiny seeds and numerous sunny yellow petals, and the trader aptly called them sunflowers. They were massive, each flower could cover my entire face! They were so very jaunty in their shape and colour, that I was struck with a cheer which lasted the entire day. I had wished to purchase some for my garden, but was soon sadden to learn that sunflowers needed more sunlight and warmth than Landis could provide. Have you been to Rabanastre before? Is it truly that much warmer than Landis? Every time I have visited, it seemed as though it was as equal to Landis’ summer in temperature, though the merchant disagreed strongly with my comment._

_Still, when my elder brother heard of my disappointment, he purchased a large bouquet of them for me, and promised me that he would try to convince the king to build me a greenhouse so that I might be able to grow them. The flowers sit in my room still, like miniature suns growing out from a crystal vase. I am thinking of pressing some of the flowers for safekeeping._

_Would you like me to send you one? I think you would enjoy having a miniature sun in your home as well._

_Please reply to this letter, even if it is simply to tell me you would rather not waste your time with such a thing. I am aware of how busy you are._

_I hope to hear back soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Reks Fon Ronsenburg of the Shetlyre Valleys_

Each word was written in a smooth, crisp stroke, though Rasler could see small droplets of ink where Reks had stopped and held the brush for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. Rasler couldn’t help the smile creep upon his face as he reread the letter; how wonderful his intended was! How deep his thought went, how sensitive his words were! To see flowers as miniature suns, how peculiar!

 

Rasler knew of the flowers that his intended has written of- they were popular in Dalmasca, as well as in Nabradia as a garden flower that was also edible. Sunflowers certainly were jaunty.

 

With another laugh, something that Rasler had seldom done since he had made his wager, he began to write his reply, stressing his complete happiness at receiving a letter and how keen he was to exchange missives with the other prince. When it came to signing his name however, Rasler paused, for he did not wish to lie to his future husband. Eventually he settled on writing ‘R.H.N’ and adding Fortuna at the bottom, which could be read as a signature or simply a separate word at the end of the letter.

 

One letter turned to two then three, and Rasler found himself counting days until Reks’ next letter. The messages were never of serious nature, nothing of court mediations or the dealings of the king’s council, but he did learn much about Reks’ family. He learned that his younger brother loved to hunt, favouring motion than to pensive thought. His younger sister was an accomplished dancer of relative fame, even outside of Landis. Ashelia, his elder by a scant 10 months, enjoyed fencing as a hobby, despite the courtiers’ disapproval. His elder brother, Grand prince Basch, was of a more thoughtful nature, and enjoyed discussing at length various topics of Reks’ choice. It was clear, despite Reks’ love of them all, that Basch was his favourite. Of the King, Reks mentioned very little, and Rasler got the indication that they were not all that close.

 

Of Reks Rasler learned that he enjoyed gardening, that his favourite flower was the Galbana lily due to its ability to grow anywhere. He spent much of his time in the library reading and then going to the Grand Prince to make commentaries on what he had read. He preferred activities that did not force him to move constantly- chess, embroidery, painting. Each tidbit was carefully stored in Rasler’s mind as he learned more and more of the other prince.

 

It was not simply letters that came to Rasler but small trinkets that Reks would add from time to time. A dried and pressed sunflower, a small magicite charmed with protective magick, a handkerchief that Reks had embroidered with arrowhead flowers, the national flower of Nabradia. Each item was carefully stored, save the sunflower, which Rasler had framed and placed on his bedside table. The charm and handkerchief he dared not touch while he was as dirty as he was; he would not sully them needlessly.  

 

Rasler, too, attempted to return the gifts in kind, though he always felt it was never as well thought out was Reks’. He sent him bulbs of golden primrose, a hardy plant that could flourish in the cool weathers of Landis; they also had yellow flowers that Rasler thought were quite sunny, though perhaps not as much as a sunflower. A book of fairytales he had bought from a caravan travelling from Rozarria, for Reks had mentioned that he was fond of legends and tales of the fantastic. And so their exchanges continued, Rasler falling more and more for this gentle prince.

 

Reks as well, found himself enjoying the letters. Lord Fortuna was knowledgeable and well educated, with a strong sense of justice and empathy that Reks admired. It was a bit tiring having to reassure his family that he was quite content with his choice, even as his sisters and younger brother complained bitterly about the arrangement. His elder brother Basch attempted to understand Reks’ acceptance, discussing the Nabradian with him, and defended the engagement among the court. Several nobles made backhanded insults and made whispered mocking about his future husband but Reks ignored them, for he knew that Lord Fortuna’s spirit was good. The most vicious of insults came from Countess Forvera and Duke Grestine, both of whom Reks had rejected previously. He ignored them all, happy to learn more of his intended with each message exchanged.

 

Until the last letter arrived, and with it a secret that Reks was asked to keep til the day of his husband’s arrival. And as requested, Reks burned the last letter, his heart pounding in his chest.

 

Saint Majora’s day finally arrived and Rasler had fulfilled his end of the bargain, freeing his soul and winning the purse. He called at once for a bath and stayed day and night in a tub of warm clean water that the servants changed frequently until he felt at last clean. He then called for a barber to shave his beard, cut his ragged hair, and trim his claw-like nails, returning Rasler to the handsome man he had been before.

 

But there was no time to relax, for he had to prepare for the wedding, calling for an armourer to design and create the armour he was to wear, an exact replication of the one he had worn when he had been award the title of Duke of Sicia. In Nabradia, it was customary for the husband to dress in armour for the wedding. The armour was of a pure white metal only found in the mines of southern Nabradia, and it prominently displayed his family crest on the chest plate. Ivalice would know the return of Prince Rasler of Nabradia soon enough.

 

He also had a magnificent ship commissioned, for it was tradition for the royalty of Landis that the husband arrive by ship to home of their intended. With all the gil Rasler provided, the shipwrights made the ship in only two weeks, and he arrived at the palace with plenty of time before the wedding, dressed in his armour and clipping the magicite charm on his ear.

 

When news of a large ship entering the harbour came to be known, the court jumped into a flurry, for it was seen that the sails bared the crest of the disthroned House Nabradia. However Prince Reks, with uncharacteristic energy, called for the ship to be welcomed to the shore of the palace, and ran off to the entrance like an excited child. This prompted the King and the rest of the royal family to follow, and the courtiers scurrying behind them. The entire court came down to watch the ship enter the harbour, and they saw with envy and admiration as a handsome man debarked the ship, his hair and armour as pale as the winter snow, cutting an impressive figure. 

 

“That is Prince Rasler of Nabradia,” Basch gasped out, standing next to the king. “They announced his death not so long ago.”

 

Rasler bowed with a flourish, his cape fluttering behind him. “I’ve come, your Majesty,” he said to the king. “To make my formal introduction to you, and meet my intended before our wedding, as is my custom.”

 

Prince Vaan, always speaking without much thought of the consequences, said with a shrug. “What are you talking about?”

 

 Rasler bowed once more before making eye contact with the king. “I am Rasler Heios Nabradia,” he stated. “But to prove my determination to save my people, for three years I was not.”

 

“By Faram and Mathia above,” Basch said. “You were Lord Fortuna.”

 

With the truth finally revealed to all, Rasler took this moment to turn to Reks, who was even fairer than his portrait, whose beauty radiated even more so now that Rasler knew of his good heart. He could not hold back his happiness in seeing Reks that Rasler ran forward and caught him in his arms. Reks returned the gesture, his arms tight around the Nabradian’s neck.

 

“I did as you asked,” Reks whispered, his face against Rasler’s shoulder. “And I kept it secret until your arrival. All the documents now have been changed from Lord Fortuna to Prince Rasler of Nabradia.”

 

“You are too good,” Rasler replied before regretfully leaving the embrace. “I brought you a gift. Something I wished to bring a while ago.”

 

When Rasler gave the nod, servants brought forth twelve sunflowers, growing in their individual pots, their yellow petals still bright and perky despite the winter chill.

 

“I had them cultivated, growing them in my garden,” Rasler said smiling at Reks’ awed stare. “They will last through the short summers and harsh winters of Landis. Now we can grow them together, our miniature suns.”

 

Rasler was wholly unprepared as Reks launched himself at the Nabradian, embracing him once more. “Thank you,” he said and Rasler understood that the other was thanking him for not just the sunflowers but for not mocking his odd train of thought, for accepting Reks as he was. His letters had mentioned that many found him odd and uncomfortable to be around.

 

“No Reks, thank you,” Rasler replied and without another word, in front of all of the court they kissed, reassuring the Fon Ronsenburg family that their brother would be happy and hale with Rasler.

 

The court cheered at the happy sight, save for Countess Forvera and Duke Grestine, both of whom were filled with so much envy and anger that they were blinded and fell into the sea, promptly drowning.

 

The date of the wedding was pushed back several days, to allow the King to increase the celebrations of the union, for it was no longer a simple wedding to a low-ranking lord, but to another nation’s prince. Rasler provided much of the funds for the festivities, inviting all of the city to a feast, from the highest in the court to the beggars in the street.

 

The night before the wedding, Rasler was visited by the devil once more. Without preamble the devil simply said, “Congratulations on your win, but I will admit that I did better than you, Prince of Nabradia. For the price of one wager, I gained two souls instead of your one.”

 

And so with a bow, the devil disappeared with those final words, and Rasler, knowing that the devil was not vengeful at his loss, rested easily until his wedding morning. The wedding, they say, was nothing short of spectacular, Prince Rasler dressed in his armour trimmed with gold, and Prince Reks in the pale blue of his family’s crest; they made a fine pair indeed. The festivities went on for seven days and seven nights, and with each passing day they fell more and more in love.

 

Once the wedding festivities were completed, Rasler used the gil from his purse to raise a large army, and with Landis as his ally, he also gained a powerful naval force for his triumphant return. Rasler marched to Nabradia, and as he passed through his kingdom to oust Duke Catharis, the people cheered, for the true king of Nabradia had returned. The false king was disposed of soon enough and Rasler reclaim the throne of House Nabradia, being crowned as Rasler the Patient by the Grand Kiltias.

 

With his thoughtful and gentle-hearted husband, and the patience cultivated by his years in exile, Rasler became a wise and beloved king. He was happy and rich until the end of his days, for he and his husband loved each other dearly, his people prospered under his rule, and his purse always gave him all the gil he ever needed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might expand on this fairytale universe to include background on the other characters. Tell me what you guys think!! :)
> 
> I am so sorry about the wall of exposition in the middle of the story (Thank god for Kytes….) . I wanted to show what the royals were saying but I didn’t want to switch scenes and wanted the entire story to be fairytale like… (mostly…. And also cuz I got lazy….) And… the story turned out a lot longer than I expected it to because I wanted Reks and Rasler to actually interact with each other (even if it was just through mail!)
> 
> Originally Vaan was supposed to make an appearance as well, barging into Rasler’s home and demanding that he wash himself because he was bringing embarrassment to his older brother. But that part got cut out because I didn’t want to write it and it stopped feeling like a fairytale like story with that in it… The ending too, Because I had too much dialogue, I think it lost the fairytale feel I was going for… I apologize ^^;;;; But no matter what, I wanted to show the sunflower scene so I COMPLETELY forced it in there…
> 
> Other things I wanted to add that never got into the final draft:   
> \- Revealing that Basch, Noah and Ashe had different mothers than Reks, Vaan and Penelo. And revealing that Ashe’s mother died giving birth to her, and Reks’ mother was a mistress until the old queen died and the king married her right away. Which was WHY the Ashe is only 10 months older showed up in the story… And then going into detail on why Reks was so much quieter (because in the past people looked down on them etc etc)  
> \- Showing Rasler being lonely in a holiday (Winter solstice) and then getting a gift and letter from Reks and him feeling less lonely  
> \- Actual interaction in which Reks gets insulted by the Countess and Duke  
> \- Showing that Noah doesn’t actually give that much of a crap about his other siblings except for Basch, but all I got around to was Reks indicating that he and the king weren’t exactly close.   
> \- What Azelas actually offered the king. Originally there was supposed to be way more Vossler/Basch vs Noah/Basch where Vossler (a Grand Duke of Rozarria) offered the king money for the cathedral in return for letting him bring Basch to Rozarria as his mistress. But that took the story away from the central plot…  
> \- Ashe being close to the half-siblings instead of her full-blooded twin siblings.  
> \- More Basch/Noah!! -> But I only got to introduce that Noah thought Basch as literally his other half…. Maybe in another story….. 
> 
> Most of these couldn’t make the cut because I wanted to keep the story as simple and Rasler/Reks as possible while still seeming fairytale-y…
> 
> Happy ending though ;D
> 
> I’d be really happy to discuss anything in the story with you!!  
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
